


I Dreamed of You

by ilerya82



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilerya82/pseuds/ilerya82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma dreams of standing on the edge of a town, a crowd of people there, and a man who promises not to let a day pass without thinking of her.  Canon Divergence AU for 3x12 - New York City Serenade forwards, little snapshots in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Dreamed of You

**Author's Note:**

> This got away from me... Like really far away from me. It starts at 3x11/12 and ends somewhere vaguely before 4x21/22. This was written for CS AU Week on tumblr.

_“That’s quite the vessel you captain there, Swan.”_

_A wave of sadness washed over her body, tears flowing and she flashed him a sad smile, one that only he could elicit at the darkest hour._

_“There’s not a day that won’t go by that I won’t think of you.” He’d choked the words out just barely above a whisper.  The pain written on his face as well as her own, she wanted to map every line of his face and sear it to her memory, so that she would never, ever forget him.  Never forget the chance that she had almost had._

_“Good.”_

_It was all she could manage, the emotion of the moment and the possibility that she was losing right now.  They smiled at each other and though they were surrounded here at the town line, she felt as though they were the only two people in this world._

 

* * *

 

 

Every morning it was the same.  Emma woke with a start, precisely at 4 AM when the dark of night had engulfed her room and the only light visible was what the shades let in to her room from the well-lit New York skyline.  The city may never sleep, but Emma Swan needed to – her son and her job depended on it and this dream just wouldn’t do.  Every night it was the same, every night she stood gathered on the edge of – somewhere – with people she felt a deep connection to though she didn’t know their names.  Every night she dreamt of this man, this moment, this goodbye that didn’t feel like it should be happening. 

_“Good.”_

Her reply was out of character for her, the choked emotion of the word, and the tears on her face… She wasn’t one to be vulnerable.  Neal had taught her that and the life that they had had before he’d run leaving her pregnant, alone and taking the rap for a crime she didn’t commit.  She didn’t open her heart to anyone, not even Walsh really knew the real Emma Swan that she kept locked away inside her heart. 

It wasn’t a nightmare instilling fear into her mind, it was a dream.  Something foggy in the back of her mind – like a lost chance, a fleeting moment of love that would never be realized.  He was her type, the man in this dream, which was why she so pointedly steered herself away from that look when she’d chosen Walsh. 

Walsh was a good man.  Stable, respectable, not a hint of bad boy anywhere in his demeanor.   She should be dreaming about him – about the life that she could have with him.  It was safe, comfortable.  It was happy, wasn’t it?  Even without the undeniable attraction she felt to the man in her dream, it could be something couldn’t?  She could be happy with Walsh, all she had to do was let him in and accept it. 

Emma rolled on to her side pulling the second pillow on her queen sized bed into her arms and hugging it tightly to her.  She shut her eyes again, squeezing back the tears that always seemed to come with the dream.  _It’s just a dream, it isn’t real, it didn’t happen!_

She willed herself back to sleep, hoping the dream wouldn’t return so that she’d be rested for the day ahead and the deadbeat asshole she had to catch later…

 

* * *

 

When she’d opened her door that morning, she’d known something was going to happen that was going to change her whole life.  She just didn’t realize that it could be possible.  This impossible man stood at her door – the face of the man that she’d dreamt of for the last year – and she knew in that moment she was lost. 

_He’s smiling – the man from her dream is smiling at her from the other side of her door._

_“Swan.  At last –“_

_Throwing up her arm to block his entry into her apartment, Emma fired back “Woah there buddy, do I know you?”_

_“Look, I need your help,” desperation rings in the man’s voice, “Something’s happened.  Something terrible.  Your family is in trouble –“_

_“My family’s right here.  Who the hell are you?”_

_“An old friend… Look, I know that you can’t remember me, but...” he took an uneasy step towards her reaching out his hands, “I can make you.”_

_His lips claimed hers and she wanted to let them, but she couldn’t – this man was some kind of crazed, delusional druggie or drunk.  She couldn’t taste any alcohol on him, but maybe the faint taste of rum… Emma kneed him in the groin and shoved him back towards the hallways wall._

_“The hell are you doing?”_

_“Ugh, it was a long shot but I had to try.  I was hoping that you felt as I did.”_

_“What you’ll feel is handcuffs when I call the cops!”_

_“Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me.  You have to remem –“_

_Emma slammed the door in his face._

He’d spouted impossible words at her, spun her a tale that was so fantastic he could give Walt Disney and the Brothers Grimm a run for their money… and he’d kissed her.  He had _kissed_ her!  She’d wanted to melt in to it, but came to her senses rather quickly shoving him away and closing him out of her home.  She’d dreamt of this man for a year, she was sure of it just as she was sure that Henry was much too smart for his own good sometime. 

She wondered if she’d seen him somewhere during her time as a bail bonds person – had he been in Boston by the wharf, in some kind of pirate production the dinner theatres put on when she’d nabbed the creep who hadn’t paid his child support in four years after skipping out on his bond?  Had she seen him in the theatre district here in New York during her walks with Henry?  Was he a street busker?  Had they seen him in a children’s production in Central Park?

That must be it – she’d seen him somewhere on the street and that was why he’d invaded her dreams because he fit that physical profile she liked best.  The scruff on his face, dark hair, brooding eyes, full lips, muscles that… Emma shook her head to clear her thoughts.  This was why she stuck to safe.  This was why she’d chosen Walsh in the first place.  He was safe.  Stable.  Secure.  No threat to heart, but then why would she continue to be with him if there wasn’t that kind of passionate attraction? 

 

* * *

 

He just would not stop!  He was everywhere, wherever she happened to be she would see the pirate.  He even interrupted her date spewing his nonsense of a family and home that she was missing.  Her?  A family?  Please!  Henry was all the family Emma Swan had ever had, and that was only because she had _made_ that family herself. 

She was an orphan, plain and simple.  There were no parents who loved her and wanted her around.  If they had, they wouldn’t have abandoned her on the side of the road when she was only hours old and left her to the mercy of Child Protective Services and the Foster Care System. 

Then there was that proposal.   Not from the pirate, no, but from Walsh.  She didn’t even want to think about it – it was too soon.  There was something niggling at the back of her mind too – something even she didn’t want to admit.  Walsh was safe, he even had the stamp of approval from her son, and Emma should be happy – _thrilled –_ about this proposal. 

But she couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing – and not just from her.  She fingered the slip of paper with a nearby address that the pirate had given her.  She wondered if that feeling came from the story he was telling her – she wanted to believe that someone out there wanted her – she always had.  She’d just had so much heartache in her life that she didn’t know how she possibly could. 

Tomorrow she would visit the apartment – then she would know.  Once and for all, if this was just another fairy story spouted by a man who wanted nothing more but to break her down to pieces just like all the rest. 

Tomorrow she would know. 

 

* * *

 

_Of all the god damned stupid things you had to have faith in the crazy man!_

Oh, she was seething!  She’d been to the apartment and it was _Neal’s_ apartment.  NEAL’S!  Her brain was screaming at her – loud, angry, bitter curses.  The one good thing had been having him locked up – there was something poetic about that justice. 

But there were things that even her angry mind couldn’t explain away.  The camera strap that said “HENRY” and the film that she’d rewound and taken to the photo lab for processing – maybe that would give her some answers.  Maybe he’d been watching them – he knew about Henry, he shouldn’t because she hadn’t had any contact with him since he’d abandoned her to the police all those years ago, but somehow he _knew_ and she had to find out what he knew.  And how.  And why he’d never made any contact with her even though they’d been in the same city at least at some point, because the dust in that apartment was thick and she wasn’t sure when someone had last been in there.  The air had been stale too – like it hadn’t been used in at least a year and she and Henry had only been here for the past year after the fire in Boston when she’d finally decided that she needed a fresh start and so did he. 

So how could he have known about Henry for so long?  And had they really meant that little to him that he’d never bothered to make contact with them – choosing to run away from responsibility all over again and leave her to do all the hard times herself?  She’d spent years believing Neal a spineless loser, and if that was the case it wasn’t far from the truth. 

As punishment for the crime, Emma had the pirate arrested.  No clever ploy, but she’d taken the vial and had him arrested.  She’d rewound the film and dropped the canister at the photo lab and then she’d walked.  Not heading anywhere in particular, her anger and the betrayal swirling in her mind and kept her mobile.  She’d circled the neighbourhoods and found herself at Henry’s school right on time, her mind set and knowing what she was going to do. 

“Mom!”

“Hey kid!  C’mon, I have a little plan for this afternoon and I think,” Emma gave Henry her best conspiring smirk as she threw her arm over his shoulder and began to guide him down the street, “that you just might like this plan.”

They walked down the street as Henry talked about his day and the crazy supply teacher that Henry had had in his science class who sounded a little like a frazzled Albert Einstein in appearance.  She guided him into the drug store with the promise of a glorious junk food dinner – something they did every now and then when Emma felt like being a little irresponsible and childish – as well as a night playing Henry’s newest video game.  She let him pick out his favourite candy bars and gummies, grabbing licorice whips for herself and a bag of salt and vinegar chips, concealing the photo packet she had picked up at the bottom of the plastic bag. 

On the walk home, she tried to express her newfound resolve.  She would marry Walsh, she would take that safe ending and make it hers – theirs.  She cared for him, maybe not passionate love but at least companionate love and maybe that would be enough for them.  Walsh made her happy – and Henry too, he was great with Henry and that was another bonus. 

“You wanna talk to me about Walsh, don’t you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you bought me candy at the drug store and promised to spend the whole night playing video games with me,” Henry smiled as he brandished the candy bar like a sword towards her. 

Emma smirked and relaxed a little, swooping her arm about his shoulders.  He was growing up so fast, what would be left for her once he was off to college and out in the world on his own?  She was making the right decision. 

“Okay… Maybe, just _maybe_ , you’re right,” she conceded with a chuckle, “I have been thinking about him and maybe what happened in my past with your birth father has kept me from living my life now.  Maybe it’s time for me to start looking forward.  Time for us to start looking forward.”

“So does that mean you’re going to marry him?”

Straight shooter just like his mother, she couldn’t help but smile.

“So that’s a yes right?  How are you gonna tell him?”  Henry’s enthusiasm was electric.  But that still didn’t mean that Emma was going to do anything fast.

“Wait, wait!  First, I didn’t say that I – “

“You could tell him at dinner tonight.”

“We’re not having dinner tonight,” Emma frowned – her son was hiding something, she could feel it.  Her super power was tingling… 

“I might have sent him a text from your phone this morning.  He’s coming over at eight and I arranged for a sleep over at Avery’s so the two of you could be alone,” Henry looked like the cat that ate the canary, “It’s ok Mom.  If your gut is tell you to marry him, trust it.”

That was one smart kid she had there.  It may be a little fast for her liking, hell it was momentously fast for her liking, but she’d been told by her child that he trusted her and her gut to make the best decision.  It was then, outside the gate to their building that she remembered the photographs from Neal’s camera, the photos she needed to examine _alone_.  She dug the photos from the pharmacy bag of junk food delights covertly as though searching for something. 

“Crap, I forgot to pick something up!  Here, take this,” Emma passed him the bag and pressed the envelope of photos to her side, “Go, see if you can beat level 24 and I’ll meet you up there.  See ya, kid.”

With a happy “See ya” Henry moved himself through the gate and into the building.  She waited until she couldn’t see him the hallway through the glass entry door meaning that he was already on his ascent to their loft before pulling the packet of photos from her side and flipping open the top of the envelope.  She hadn’t expected what she found inside – she had no words to describe what was inside, but there were things that were not possible inside that little envelope.  Things that had never – could never – have happened. 

She needed answers, and she knew the only place that she was going to find them was currently locked up in the 35th Precinct. 

 

* * *

 

A ridiculous amount of persuasion that she did not in fact want to press charges against the man; that all of this had been some unfortunate misunderstanding, and Emma stood outside the precinct waiting for the impossible and infuriating man to be released from his cell.  She thumbed the picture on top of the pile with a sad smile, something tugging at the back of her memory.  She looked up in time to see him sauntering out of the building, his thumb tucked provocatively into his belt.

“Hey.  We need to talk.”

“I _knew_ you wouldn’t leave me in that cage to rot, Swan.  I have been in my share of brigs but none as barbaric as that,” he spit the words incredulously, “Do you know, they force fed me something called – bologna.”

Emma flipped the photos towards him.

“What the _hell_ are these?  We’ve never lived in a town called Storybrooke – we never took a flight from Boston to New York… We never did _any_ of this!”

“So you believe me, then?”

“I don’t know!  For all I know you could have photoshopped these pictures!”  Emma threw up her hands in frustration.  He looked bewildered by her words.  This was getting her nowhere fast.

“Photo-shopped?”    

“Faked.”

“If you thought these were forgeries, then why’d you spring me from the brig?” He inched towards her before continuing, “Because as much as you try to deny it, deep down, you _know_ something’s wrong.  Deep down, you know that I’m right.”

Emma shook her head, blinking down at the ground unable to meet his gaze. 

“It’s not possible… How could I _forget_ all of this?”

“I promise you, there is an explanation.”  He pulled something from his pocket, that vial he’d asked her to drink in the park and rolled it in his grasp.

“Not one that will make any sense.”

“If you drink this it will,” he promised, proffering the blue vial of liquid with hope in his eyes. 

Emma couldn’t help but stare at it.  What was it?  What would that do?  Would it erase everything that her life was because as far as she knew, up until she’d met him her life had been a pretty good one!  She had her son, a job she loved, a great home in the city that never sleeps, a guy she loved…

“If – if what you’re saying is true, then I’d have to give up my life here –“

“A life based on lies.”

“It’s real and it’s pretty good dammit!  I have Henry, a job… a guy I love…” she trailed off as she saw him wince a little at her words.  She remembered his words on her doorstep “ _I thought you felt as I did.”_

“Perhaps there’s a man that you love in the life you’ve lost.  Regardless,” he stretched his arm out close to her hand, “if you want to find the truth, then drink up.  Do you really want to live a life of lies?  You know this isn’t right.  Trust your gut, Swan, it will tell you what to do.”

He wasn’t lying – this was real and she had to know.  He did know her, he knew her son, and he’d proven it right then with his words.

“Henry always says that.”

“Then if you won’t listen to me, listen to your boy.”

She didn’t need to think about it anymore – she took the vial from his outstretched hand and uncorked it.  Sniffing the clear liquid inside, it smelled like cinnamon and cocoa, whipped cream and cherries, bear claws… It smelled like home.  Squinting her eyes, she downed it like she would a shot of espresso from the local Starbucks after an all-night stake out. 

Her eyes snapped shut as the liquid burned all the way through her, the second it was on her tongue images formed in her mind.  The life that she had lost.  Her birthday – 28 and another banner year for sure. 

Henry finding her in Boston and convincing her to come to Storybrooke if only so that she could take him back to his adoptive mother without fear of being saddled with kidnapping charges.  Storybrooke – the shops, the people, Mary Margaret – her _mother_ – Graham, Regina, David – _Dad_ – the loft, Granny’s…  The Sherriff’s station and her desk, her job, her life.  The dragon she’d slain, the Enchanted Forest with Ogres and villainous witches who could take the forms of other people.  Witches who could steal the heart from your chest.  The beanstalk, the giant, and him – _Hook_.  Neal and Neverland.  Hell even Tinkerbelle was a real person.  PETER PAN!    

She had loved them all so much, the family that she had always dreamed of – the family that had dreamt of her too and wanted her.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.  Her home.  Her family, and she – she was their Saviour.  She is the Saviour. 

The dream hadn’t been a dream – it was real.  It was the moment they’d said goodbye and she’d wanted to sear his image to her memory, as if that would matter.  Regina giving her and Henry a lifetime of happy memories and driving down the road towards New York City in her old yellow beat up VW bug.  Regina erasing Storybrooke from the map and saving them all from Pan’s curse…  Sucking in a breath she opened her eyes and stared into searching gaze. 

“Hook,” his moniker passing her lips as a breathless whisper, something haunting and beautiful, and something altogether more terrifying than anything she could ever imagine.  Her memories of this life were still there, little lies sprinkled in with the truth forever to be a part of her.  The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Did you miss me?”

Emma couldn’t help the smile that pirate charm brought to her face…

 

* * *

 

Nothing in her life had been real, she shouldn’t have imagined that Walsh – the companionate, safe boyfriend – would have been any different once the fog of her life had been lifted.  Emma took another sip of the rum they’d been drinking.  Henry would be back from Avery’s for breakfast – early enough to get his things together for school, but he wouldn’t be headed there today.  Killian had crashed on her couch not long ago – she would send him up to the roof at dawn to wait, but for now she let him sleep.  He looked like he needed it. 

When Regina had told her at the town line that she would forget everything, she had never imagined that the time she had spent wishing that she could at least remember him would even matter.  But it had.  She’d dreamt of him, not her parents or the town or the life that she had lived before that moment but she _dreamed_ of the moment when she had said goodbye to Killian Jones, aka Captain Hook, at the edge of town. She shouldn’t have been able to retain the memory.  It shouldn’t have been possible – and it was something that she wanted to ask Regina about if she ever got the chance… If their memories are intact.  Did they remember her?  Did they remember _anything_?

_“Snow and the Queen settled their differences,” he said tilting back in his chair, “Frankly, I was bored.  I had a life to get back to… A_ pirate’s _life.”_

_Emma didn’t know whether to smirk or scowl at that remark as she brought the bottle of rum to the table, depositing two tumblers on the wooden surface.  She settled for something more like a bemused smirk._

_“Glad to see you haven’t changed.”_

_Emma poured three fingers in to each glass and slid hid toward him.  That fake hand was weirding her out.  She realized that she actually missed the hook._

_“There wasn’t anything for me in the Enchanted Forest… Why would I stay?”_

_Because you weren’t there… He hadn’t said it but he didn’t need to, Emma could sense it.  He picked up the tumbler and they raised their glasses, clinking a toast to something or other unspoken, maybe their reunion albeit under these frightful circumstances._

_“All was well until I got a message… A message saying that there was a new curse and that everyone had been returned to Storybrooke.  It told me that the only hope was you.”_

_“You came all the way back here to save my family?”_

_“I came back to save you.”_

_Nope, there was no doubt about it._ There’s not a day that won’t go by…

_“Who could have done this?”_

_He pondered for a moment, shrugging his shoulders and finishing his rum before stating the obvious._

_“Someone powerful enough to reach in to this world.”_

_“Any more specific thoughts?”_

_“Alas, you’re the Saviour, not me.”_

She was the Saviour but she had no idea who or what could possibly have the power to bring them all back to Storybrooke.  Besides, who would want to do that?  The only people who would really, truly want to come back would be her parents and Regina – they would want to be with their family more than anything else. 

Whoever had done this had placed Walsh here to watch her, of that she was sure given that he’d attacked her and had flown off the side of the roof transforming in to some kind of flying creature with glowing red eyes, fangs, claws and a craving for Saviour blood.  What the hell was that thing?  She obviously was the only one who could break whatever curse had been cast upon her family this time if they’d left a _watchdog_ to ensure she never remembered her past. 

She’d been thinking about happy endings.  That’s what had done this – happy endings and how she was finally going to be happy after so, so long and then the pirate had come and inserted himself in to her life again.  He’d shown up and started poking holes in the fabric of her reality, and truthfully whether that happiness was based on a pack of lies or not, it was still hers.  It was still happiness when for so long she had been all alone in this world with no one to…

No, she had had Henry.  She hadn’t been alone, but that didn’t matter now.  Now she knew the truth and she would never be able to think of that life – that perfectly manufactured lie of a life – with anything but pain.  But Henry, no for Henry she would have to pretend.  He didn’t know and there wasn’t any more of the potion that she could give him to bring back the memories of his old life.

What if he never remembered their old life?  What would she do then?  She couldn’t keep him in a place like Storybrooke where any number of magical villains could be waiting to attack at any given moment.  What kind of life would that be for him?  Obviously, not a safe or smart one.  How could he be happy there? 

She took another sip of the rum and checked the time on her phone.  2:45 – it was time to pack a couple of bags.  Tomorrow they were going home, if only for a little while…

 

* * *

 

Emma had barely slept – two hours that were not restful at all and when she’d finally given up she’d found Killian seated on her couch staring at a photograph Henry had taken of her the day they’d moved in to the loft.  She padded to the kitchen, her brain a restless and weary fog.  Coffee – this situation called for coffee. 

She’d had the dream again – not that she’d needed it, she knew how things played out now, but she’d had it none the less.  She’d remembered his words, the sadness in his eyes as she’d walked away with Regina, and something more – something guarded – and then it had shifted.  The dream had shifted to her doorway and _I was hoping that you felt as I did_ and to the front of the precinct and _perhaps there was a man that you loved in the life that you lost._   She’d brewed two cups noisily, and the pirate had joined her by sitting on one of the barstools. 

“Sleep well?” Emma asked as she turned and placed a mug in front of him.  He’d seemed peaceful when she’d finally gone to bed last night – hadn’t moved or made a peep from his position on the couch all night that she could tell. 

“Better than I have in days, love,” he teased with a smile. 

That was the Hook she knew, and so she rolled her eyes and smirked at him as she leaned her back against the counter and drew the hot black liquid into her mouth, relishing the burn.  This day would be fueled by coffee, coffee, and maybe some sugar. 

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you for breakfast – at least not yet, but when you come back down from the roof –“

“Never fear, I’ll be fine, Swan.  I’m not feeling all that hungry as of yet.”

Guilt tinged with sadness – it radiated off him, along with a crushing sensation of happiness and hope.  Emma knew he felt awful about having to destroy her illusions of happiness.  She knew he probably felt guilty that he couldn’t restore Henry’s memories as well, but she knew that guilt had more to do with her at this moment than anyone else. 

“So, Henry will probably be back here by 7 which means you haven’t got that long before you’ll need to be out of the way.  The bathroom is down the hall – you could wash up, if you want or…”

“Thank you, Swan.  I think I’ll just finish this coffee first, but a shower would be most agreeable.”

“No problem – I’ll just, uh, go get you some towels…”

Emma rushed herself from the room to keep him from seeing the blush that had crept across her face at the thought of him naked in her shower.  

 

* * *

 

True to his normal pattern, Henry was back in the apartment from Avery’s at exactly 7:15.  She’d showered and dressed, tucking their bags off to the side of the room before he’d arrived home.  Killian had been upstairs on the rooftop terrace for the past hour, leaving her alone with her thoughts, which were much less about the trouble facing Storybrooke and its residents, and a lot more along the lines of what a certain pirate looked like when he was release from all his leather trappings.  Dripping wet in her shower. 

The second Henry had entered the apartment it had felt a lot more real, they were going back and she had no idea how to relate what he was about to experience to him.  She supposed this was how he’d felt years ago on that bus ride – trying to imagine how to explain what was about to transpire in that sleepy little town in Maine.  She’d been unwilling to accept it.  Maybe he wouldn’t be, though.  Maybe there was just enough magic of childhood left in him that he could accept this better than she had at first.

Emma stood mixing the eggs beside the stove lost in thought.

“Mom! Mom! You’re hurting the eggs!”

“Right,” Emma said, snapping out of the fog, “Henry, can I ask you something?”  She wasn’t sure how this was going to go, but she had an idea of where to start. 

“Sure.”

“Do you believe in magic?”

“Of course!  And the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny…” Henry had a coy smile on his lips as he spoke, “If it gets me a present, I believe.  You're not sure you made the right decision, are you?”

“ _I_ just didn’t feel like pancakes,” she said smiling as she tuned back to the eggs and poured them in to the heated pan. 

“About Walsh.”

“Oh,” she chuckled, there was her son!  “I made the right decision. I’m absolutely certain of it. It’s gonna be you and me, kid, for a little while.” 

She pulled the eggs from the pan and served the scrambled delight to her son at the counter.  He was still smiling at her, but she could tell he wasn’t completely sold and by his reaction to her question she knew that the window of childhood magic and wonder was all but over.  Pouring herself another cup of coffee, Emma turned and pressed her back to the counter to observe him.

“As long as you’re happy, Mom,” Henry pushed up from his plate after a few bites, “Tasty. But I’ve got to run. I’m gonna be late for school. You kind of overslept.”

“Nope, no school today. How about we go on a trip?”

“Like a vacation?” Henry sat down again and tucked in to his food.   

“Like – I have a new case, and it's in Maine, and it might take me awhile… And I think we should go. It would be like an adventure.”

“No school? A trip with you? Sold,” Henry was positively beaming.  Easier than she thought…

“Good, 'cause I already packed,” she turned back to the dirty dishes and the egg pan sorting them into the dishwasher. 

“When do we leave?”

As if right on cue, there came a knocking at the apartment door.   

“Now,” Emma said turning and placing the tea towel that had wound up in her hands on the countertop. 

“Are you expecting someone?”

“Yeah, you could say that…”

Emma moved to the door, throwing a smile over her shoulder at her son.  He was still eating, but he was watching her with rapt attention.  She pulled open the door to reveal the pirate she hadn’t known she’d been dreaming of all this time leaning against the doorframe.   She smirked, rolled her eyes and gestured him inside. 

“You’re ready, Swan?”

No hook again… _Weird._ Walking alongside him into the kitchen, Emma made the necessary introductions and prayed her son had a momentary lapse in memory as to their guests identity as the crazy stalker from the previous few days. 

“Henry, this is Killian. He’s- I’m, uhm.  I’m helping him with his case.”

“Did you skip bail?” Henry fired at him. 

“Oh, he's still a little spitfire.”

“Still?”

Emma placed her hand on Killian’s arm with a grimace.  “He's not a perp – he’s a client.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

_So we’re back to twenty questions rapid fire…_

“Why are _you_ dressed like that?”

“Alright, alright.  _Enough…_ Just make yourself useful, Killian, and get our bags.  Henry, lend him a hand.” 

With the boys given their marching orders, Emma went back to finishing her tidy up in the kitchen.  They weren’t going to be here for a little while she didn’t relish coming back to a mess when and if they came back.  Henry paused before joining Hook who was busy loading his arms with their luggage. 

“Wait. We’re already going?”

She grabbed his coat and scarf from the hook and held it up for him to put on. 

“Yeah it’s a long drive and I,” she smiled as she helped him into the jacket, “I just need one last thing and I’ll be ready to go too.”

She watches the boys walk out of the apartment.  She can hear Henry’s rapid fire questions for Killian, the endless banter that he provided would drive them both insane on the road back to Storybrooke but she couldn’t help but feel daunted as she walks to her wardrobe to retrieve something that was buried in the back of her closet.  Flipping through the clothes, she finds it there at the back just in front of her winter coat.  She hadn’t worn the thing in the last year, had even thought about donating it to charity even though she couldn’t bring herself to part with it, but shrugging her shoulders into it now felt like a familiar comfort.

Knights wear suits of armour into battle, but Saviours wear red leather jackets.     


* * *

 

It was a little over seven hours from New York City to Storybrooke, Maine, it could be done in a straight drive but it couldn’t be done with an inquisitive son and a bewildered and overwhelmed pirate.  They made stops along the road for coffee, to stretch their legs, and for both lunch and dinner that day. 

Henry had asked questions of both Killian and herself non-stop from the moment they had settled in the bug she had kept parked in the garage but hadn’t really used much since they’d moved to the city.  Having the car was more for travel purposes than for anything else, what with the subway system and the ease of walking New York offered.  He didn’t beat around the bush – he simply asked questions like the inquisitive young man that he was.  What do you do?  What did you do?  Why is my Mom helping you with a case?

She’d fielded anything that was case related with a firm, “Henry, you know we can’t talk about that right now, try again…” but he kept coming back to it.  She was going to have to think up a story that was somewhat safer to share than _oh, well, you see magic is real and I’m the Saviour and this whole extended family that you have NEVER met or even heard of needs me to save them from destruction against some maniacal villain, but you know average stuff_.  Anything would be better than having Henry think she’d completely lost her mind, which she was pretty sure he already did after she’d “turned down” Walsh.  He didn’t need to know he was part of the maniacal villain’s evil plan just yet.

After stuffing himself with a Lumberjack Slam, Henry had found it easier to sleep in the car for the remainder of the ride leaving Emma to quietly ponder what to do when they arrived in Storybrooke.  Killian hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes.  He’d been spinning a tale of sailing on the open seas and navigating by the light of the stars when Henry had started to snore softly signaling he was finally down for the count.  The pirate took a swig from his flask, head tilted to the side against the window in the passenger seat, staring upwards into the black of night.  It wasn’t possible to see many stars here – the interstate was littered with the bright lights of the city blocking the view of most of the constellations he would be hoping to find.  He must have sensed her need for quiet, or at least had felt the need for some himself since the great Henry Inquisition had finally ended, if only for the moment. 

She wanted to say something.  She wanted to reach out and take his hand tell him that she was so happy that he had come to find them.  To tell him that she had dreamt of him, even though she didn’t know what they hell she was dreaming of. 

She wanted to find the words, but she couldn’t, so she flipped on the radio soft and low and searched for the nearest alt rock station because the silence was louder than the music through the speakers of the bug…

 

* * *

 

They’d made it back into town, Henry still dozing and Hook seeming more energized when they crossed the town line.  Emma couldn’t stop staring – everything was here, EVERYTHING was back, but in what state would she find the townsfolk?

There wasn’t a soul on Main Street.  No one walking under the street lamps, no neon signs proclaiming anything to be ‘Open’ for business and it wasn’t yet 9 PM.  Something about this was off.  There was something that just wasn’t right at all.  

Emma parked the bug – not too far from the loft but enough of a walk that she would have a chance to clear her head on the way there.  Henry still hadn’t stirred, so she turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.  Killian wasn’t far behind – clicking his signature silver hook back in to place as he rounded the car to stand beside her. 

“It’s back – it’s really back… _I’m_ back.”

“As quaint and homey as you remembered?”

“As cursed as I remembered…”

Killian used his hook to push the curled strand on her shoulder back with a roguish playfulness.  A little bit of his signature pirate charm. 

“That’s more like it, isn’t it, Swan?”

“How are you going to explain that to him?” Emma narrowed her eyes with a grimace as she gestured at the offending silver appendage.  It _was_ more like it, but she wasn’t about to tell him that, now was she. 

“Well, that’s more your concern than mine, love.  Perhaps it will jog his memory.”

“Or give him nightmares,” she muttered a little under her breath, continuing before he could take the chance to put in his two cents on the matter, “Last time, this curse too away everyone’s memories.  What did it do this time?”

“This time we don’t know what it did – or rather, _I_ don’t know what it did.  I wasn’t a part of the curse, I arrived in this land before they did.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to find out,” she gazed at her son sleeping in the backseat, “Listen, stay here and watch Henry.  Don’t – don’t wake him or scare him, you know just – just let him sleep.”

“Aye.”

She started off in the direction of the loft when she heard him call out to her again.

“Where are you going?”

Turning and flashing him a smile while still making her way backwards to the loft she replied, “To talk to my parents.”

She wanted him to come with her.  She wanted the strength of another with her for this reunion, but she needed someone to look after her son.  Storybrooke was a nice town, he would have been safe alone, but she couldn’t leave him there in good conscience.  This Henry had never been left alone before.  This Henry had had a mother who was always around or a babysitter to watch out for him when she couldn’t.  No reason that should change now just because her whole world had come crashing down on its head.

 

* * *

 

They all had their memories.  All of them, Mary Margaret, David, Regina… She took it harder than the rest that Emma was the only one with any memories of the past.  Emma knew that she loved Henry just as much as she did, and it was tearing her in two to think about it.  She was pushing them together, more because she knew that it was something that couldn’t be avoided while they were in town, also because if anyone could jog his memory it would be his other Mother. 

Figuring out who was behind all of this had been top on their list of priorities – falling somewhere behind that was finding Neal because she knew he was around, and it would be better if he didn’t surprise their son by popping up out of nowhere considering that he couldn’t yet remember the small bond that they had begun to form.  But even though they’ve set traps (which found the culprit escaping in a puff of green smoke) and enlisted the help of Robin freaking Hood and his Merry Men (who seems absolutely enamoured with Regina) they are no closer to actually being able to _find_ them. 

Which brings them to a hall way conversation at the loft, with Henry engrossed in some comic books inside and David, Mary Margaret, Regina and Hook moving out into the hall to discuss the most recent goings on at Emma’s request.

“They’re being turned in to _flying monkeys_?”

Her mother’s tone is as incredulous as Emma’s thoughts.   She doesn’t even know how to process this – it’s like some sort of nightmare but the wheels keep clicking in her head.  That is what Walsh turned in to when he leapt over the edge of the rooftop.  That is a perfect description for it. 

“Aye, he took a simian form with a pair of wings.”

“Do you think – is this what happened to the missing dwarves too?” Mary Margaret’s face awash with shock and concern. 

“It would explain why we haven’t found any traces of them, dear.”

“And Neal?”  Emma’s voice cracked a little.  It wasn’t that she was still in love with him, she wasn’t.  She’d had years without him in every form of her life to be over it, but her concern was for her son and for that first love that you never really stop caring about, in even the smallest ways.  While it would be better for her if he were dead so that she could finally move on, just like she’d said in Echo Cave, it wouldn’t necessarily be better for Henry. 

“There’s been no sign of him either, so yeah, it’s possible,” David said touching her arm in an attempt to comfort. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be the _first_ flying monkey I’ve dated…”

“The person who escaped our trap disappeared in a cloud of green smoke and _now_ there are flying monkeys in this town?  I think we know exactly who cursed us,” Regina sneered with a roll of her eyes. 

“The Wicked Witch of the West?”  When Regina nods affirmative, Emma continues incredulously, “Seriously?  _She’s_ real too?” 

“Says the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming,” the pirate scoffs. 

“I don’t get it, it’s not like we’re in Kansas, so why would the Wicked Witch of the West want to come to Storybrooke?”

It brings their impromptu meeting of the minds to an end, because no one can answer that question.  No one can even fathom what the answer would mean – because other than Mary Margaret, who could possibly have that much of a beef with Regina to take her to task again and on her own turf?  Especially when they had settled all of their differences, at least to the point of a functional relationship.  Whatever the explanation, she just hoped they found it in time…

 

* * *

 

This was not the day she had been hoping for.  This was a day to break her heart, not into millions of pieces, but enough of one to make her wonder why she had agreed to come back here in the first place.  They’d found her lair, the green abomination, but she hadn’t been home.  Neither the Wicked Witch nor her furry little friends were anywhere to be found, but there was a storm cellar with spun gold on the floor.  Rumplestiltskin. 

He was here, he was _alive,_ and Greeny (as Emma had taken to calling her) or _Zelena_ as they now knew her to be, had taken him prisoner for some dark and insidious plan that involved the baby who was growing closer to arriving with every passing day.  Why did she need Gold?  Why did she want her sibling?  What the hell was this Wicked Witch up to?

And then she had to tell her son that his father was dead…

_“C’mere, kid,” she said softly, throwing her arm about his shoulders, “You were right when you said I… I wasn’t… completely honest with you about this case, this trip.  The reason I brought us here is because… someone was in trouble, and the person who needed our help, well, it wasn’t really a client.  It was your father.”_

_“My dad?”_

_His eyes lit up and her heart splintered some more.  The excitement on his face at the potential of seeing his father… This was not easy…_

_“Some… Some bad people wanted to hurt him.”_

_“Is – is he ok?  Did you find him???”_

_“I found him, Henry, but… But I was too late.  He’s – he’s gone,” her voice breaking with every word that passed her lips, “He was a good man, and he would have been a great father.  There’s one thing that I need you to know about him… he was a hero.  I wish you would have known him...”_

_She can’t shake the bubble of laughter that pops up at the ridiculousness of her words._

_“You did…”_

_And she’s chuckling again.  Her emotions on a roller coaster, soaring faster and faster and tumbling down to the depths within seconds of passing the gate._

_“Mom, you’re not… Making any sense right now…”_

_“I know,” she sighs, “And I’m sorry.”_

_“What happened to the person who did it?”_

_And it’s here that it hits home.  It’s here that she knows that no matter what she really is going to see this through because all the thoughts she had of running back to the safe anonymity of New York City can’t happen until she does._

_“They got away… But I’m going to find them.”_

 

* * *

 

There’s a thrown down, an honest to goodness throw down fight in the Main Street of town like something out of _West Side Story._   Greeny, as it turns out is Regina’s sister – _her sister_ – and it’s jealousy that’s driving this war.  She wants what she thinks Regina has stolen from her – this life, this town, everything that Regina has and that she was denied the right to. 

She’s taken Regina’s heart, she has Rumplestiltskin, she’s taken her father’s sword and she wants to take her baby brother or sister away for some sort of spell.  Belle tried explaining it – she wants to turn back time, change things so that she doesn’t miss out on anything and Regina has nothing. 

So there’s magic lessons, from Regina, which were not exactly the way Emma envisioned learning more about her Saviour powers.  She hadn’t really been fond of falling to the bottom of the ravine, but that’s how it happened that she learned how to save herself.  It’s also where she learned about her dream. 

_“Regina, I could really use your advice about something…”_

_“If you start spouting hope at me like your moth – “_

_“No, it’s not advice for you, but I know that you know a little bit more about that spell you did than I do.  The – the memories you gave us…”_

_“What about them?  Didn’t you have a happy life?  Wasn’t it everything you always dreamt that you could have shared with Henry?”_

_“That’s – that’s not what I mean.  Regina,” Emma tried to gather her will, “I dreamt of this place.  I didn’t know what I was dreaming of, but I dreamt of Storybrooke… I didn’t know names and not all of the faces were clear, but I dreamt of –“_

_“Captain Guyliner?”_

_“Yeah,” Emma huffed, rolling her eyes at the description._ It’s hot – get over it lady _._

_“Not surprising, true love for the product of true love…”_

_“Wait, wait – woah!  I never said anything about love – and besides, he tried to kiss me in New York!  Wouldn’t that have brought back our memories?  True Love’s Kiss and all?”_

_It was Regina’s turn to laugh, and laugh she did at Emma’s lack of knowledge about just how exactly True Love’s Kiss works.  She could have put her out of her misery quickly, but it was always a little more fun when the queen of snark had the upper hand._

_“That’s just not how it works,” Regina chuckled, “Both parties have to be cognizant of their feelings for each other, otherwise the magic has no power.  You couldn’t remember him, how could you recognize or even begin to accept any feelings for him?”_

_“But I dreamt – “_

_“You dreamt of something that was locked away by magic!  You couldn’t access anything.  You_ knew _nothing and even now that you know you accept even less of it, Miss Swan.  If that’s all for today…”_

And that was the end of the lesson.  It was also the end of any peace that Emma could find in the thought of returning to New York with a rational and clear head.  Now the only motivation was _run._

 

* * *

 

_Run._

It just played on repeat in her brain.  _Run._ Get out of here and see if this is it.  If this is _home_ because she knows that if she does feel it, she’d come back. 

She’d almost watched him die – lips cursed by Greeny to strip her of all her magic and she couldn’t, she wouldn’t…

She’d given him mouth to mouth, not kissed him but the effect was same.  Her magic was gone.  There was no defeating Zelena without the Saviour’s white light magic, and so it seemed hopeless.  Her baby brother or sister was going to come in to this world and they would be powerless to stop Zelena all because she couldn’t bear to think of a world without him in it.  That would be too much for her to bear. 

They were thinking all hope was lost when Henry tells his other mother that she can do it.  He’s right, of course, the magic that brought back all their memories – True Love’s Kiss between a mother and her son –that was light magic.  Regina could do this, and the rest of them… The rest of them would back her up. 

And then she would run…

 

* * *

 

In the end, she didn’t run.  Oh, she _tried_ to run because running was what Emma did best when things became emotionally difficult.  When presented with things that were too precious for her to bear the thought of losing, Emma would rather abandon them or push them aside than get too attached. 

She ran to her favourite quiet spot, the bench by the pond, the spot where she could always clear her mind.  Emma ran, but Killian followed.  Unlike anyone else she’d run from, he chose to follow her.  And he kept following her – straight through a portal into the Enchanted Forest of the past and the meeting of her parents. 

By the end of their long, strange trip Emma had realized there wasn’t anywhere that Killian _wouldn’t_ follow her – and she was glad that he would.   He had brought her home, and he had made a home in her heart while he was at it.  She didn’t know if this was love, but she was willing to admit that she wanted to find out.  She felt better with him than without, and running to New York wasn’t going to make her feel any better. 

When she sucked up the courage (after Henry’s persuasion) to ask him out on a date, she realized that she felt a lot more for him that she was willing to admit.  When the night ended and she leaned against her parents’ door (before they had so rudely broken her reverie) she realized that she was in love in with him; that pirate turned hero with a heart of gold.  She was beginning to grab hold of the quiet moments and to live her life.  There was no reason that they couldn’t make this work, Saviour or not.   

It was during one such quiet moment that she confessed to him something that she had always wanted to say.  No, no, not those eight words, those would come, but something else that she felt might express them in a way. 

“Killian,” she was curled comfortably in his arms on her parents’ sofa, Netflix running in the background on some horribly chosen film that she had never seen before and probably never would again.  She felt safe – and it was that safety that urged her forward.

“Yes, love?”

“I just wanted you to know – I – I dreamt of you.”

“Swan, you don’t have to dream of me you can have me whenever and wherever you wish,” his smarmy reply was accompanied by a knowing grin and quirking eyebrows, earning him an eye roll and a swat from the golden haired Saviour in his embrace. 

“Save it pirate, that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, love?”

It took her a moment to gather her resolve.  He wasn’t going anywhere, _she_ wasn’t going anywhere.  This was home, this was safe, and this was _true_.   She pushed herself up so that she could look him in the eyes.

“I mean in New York… Over that year.  I – “she struggled for a moment for the words, there was nothing but her own emotion holding them back, “I didn’t know it was you.  I didn’t know anything about it, but – but I dreamt of that moment… At the town line… I dreamt of it every night for a year…”

She was searching his eyes, his lips, for any sign that he understood what she meant by it.  There were tears there, unshed but still, and something that sparkled in the glow of the television – something that looked a lot like love. 

“And not a day went by, that I didn’t think of you.”

Those were the last words he could utter for quite some time.  Their movie was utterly forgotten because Emma had forgotten just how exciting a make out session on someone else’s couch when they could be home from their date at any minute could be.  At least, they were much more exciting when it was the pirate she loved with all her heart who had claimed her mouth. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
